Read The Chrysalid Conspiracy Online
Authors: A.J. Reynolds
“Thanks Lucy. On that basis, I’m here forever!” said Sheila. “I’ll let you get some more sleep, then give you a gentle massage when you’re more receptive. Okay?”
“I’ve done nothing for almost a week,” said Amelia when they went back to the living room. “I really fancy a nice long run. The weather looks too fantastic to miss. That’s if I can find something to wear.”
“Not until I’ve checked out that ankle. Cousin,” put in Sheila, and gave a squeal of delight. “What do you mean by something to wear, anyway?” she asked.
“My old tracksuit seems to have shrunk. I can’t wear that hideous new one. It’s for winter weather. My one and only bra is too small and my PE vests are too tight across the chest. I’ll have to go and buy some new gear first,” Amelia complained.
“I’ve got my jogging kit in the washing basket. I haven’t worn it much lately, but it’s yours if you want to borrow it,” said Sheila. “It’s definitely for hot weather, and it’s quite warm out there today.”
Ten minutes later, Amelia was on the village green doing her warm-ups. She’d deliberately chosen a place in sight of the rectory in the hope that Caz or Claire might see her. She wondered if they would recognise her; Sheila had loaned her a jogging bra; over riding Amelia’s objections with the news that a girl out jogging with no bra under a thin strap-over vest could be construed as a come-on. A pair of cut down jeans as shorts completed the ensemble. They were nicely faded and frayed and showed off her long legs.
“I look like something off of Miami Beach,” she’d remarked to Sheila when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror.
“You certainly do,” answered Sheila. “I wonder if Tether’s End is ready for you. If you grow any more you’re going to end up ten feet tall, and nine feet of that will be legs.” They both had a good laugh.
“What the hell,” said Amelia. “I must admit I do feel great. I’ll go for it. Thanks Sheila.”
She set off at a brisk pace, over the old stone bridge. Her idea was to run to Warem Down and, bearing in mind her mother’s remark about their newfound solvency, she’d slipped some money in her back pocket with a view to treating herself to a new sports outfit.
As she ran, she felt good and she knew she looked good by the number of admiring looks and the occasional wolf whistles she collected, and even some women took notice. She stuck to Lorraine’s advice and looked straight ahead without any acknowledgement or eye contact.
She was happy. She had the freedom and ability to run in the warm sun and the open countryside she was now in. She was at one with the world. The talk with her mother, the end of the necessary lies and deceit and the trust regained made her feel like an integral part of life, instead of an outsider; hiding behind the door straining to hear through the cracks.
Why, then, did she get the impression that a cloud was following her? It acted as a trigger and that unthinkable thought swamped her mind like a giant tsunami. Was everything really going to die? It seemed so implausible. But why? How could we let this happen? What went wrong?
She carried on running and as is such with the human mind, and endemic to the species, her mind wandered off in search of someone to blame.
Was it enforced indecision? With one expert telling us that we are heading for an economic recession and another saying the opposite? One predicting a financial meltdown and another calling it a minor glitch? The stock market is about to collapse; yet no it isn’t? Food prices rocketing and production reduced. Why, then, are there food riots in some countries while we can still walk into a shop and buy cornflakes on a ‘two for one’ special offer?
A third of the world is starving because of political corruption and exploitation, another third is finding new and ingenious ways to kill each other due to ideological and religious differences, while the rest of us wallow in complacency and worry about the weather and what’s on television. What sort of society was it that only panicked when their leaders said ‘don’t panic’? We now have the ability to communicate with anyone, anywhere in the world. People can now talk to each other more, but are they actually saying anything?
They say talk is cheap because supply outweighs the demand. But being able to ring up and tell somebody who’s starving to death about the new sports outfit you just bought doesn’t sound much like progress to me,
she was thinking.
We only have one planet. If we can’t live on it together, then perhaps we don’t deserve it. Maybe it’s time we handed it over to a new species? It is our own fault, after all.
She had become so angry at herself, the world, and the whole human race that she hadn’t noticed she had speeded up and was well past the Moonraker, on her way out to Grabsum Moore. Feeling as if she were running inside a cocoon, she determined she would break free and try to enjoy the day.
“So I’m going to be Zanitor,” she thought, and it brought a smile to her face. She couldn’t see how. Rayn was much better than she was at ‘heroic efforts’. But what was it her mother had said? She had more developing to encounter? It all sounded a bit ominous.
How had Maddy managed to build such an organisation which seemed to have unlimited finances and all the right connections? How long had it taken her?
Before she knew it, she was in Grabsum Moor shopping centre and surrounded by a tangled mass of questions again. Feeling too good to stop running she bought herself a bottle of spring water and headed out of town by the back roads and cross-country back to Warem Down. Plenty of hills and some wicked views.
Her first surprise came when she crested the first hill. It had been a long, up-hill drag of almost half a mile. The balls of her feet should be on fire and her leg muscles shaking with effort. But all she felt was the physical and mental urge to run.
That’s odd,
she thought as she forced herself to slow the pace for the downward leg.
She ran on, through valleys with neat little villages, farm hamlets, meandering rivers and wide vistas from the hilltops. There were several signs offering a footpath, but she preferred to stay on the roads, she could see what she was treading in.
Her second surprise was when she came over a hill to see Warem Down laid out before her. So soon?
Taking the back road to avoid the town, she was soon out into open country again. Her body was responding perfectly. No aches, pains or twinges. She wasn’t sweating a great deal, as the weather was demanding. Her breathing was steady and it occurred to her that she may be solar powered. Absorbing the same amount of energy as she was expending. Under the circumstances it didn’t seem unlikely.
It wasn’t long before she was coming down the hill into the valley of the High Lakes above Tetherington. She could see that the earth dam at this the high lake, had been completed and the bulldozers and earthmovers were busy further down the valley working on the larger middle lake. The lake up here was now three times its original size and, by the time it was finished, it would be huge, as would middle and top lake further down the picturesque glacier sculpted gorge. She turned away, fighting off a tear of anger.
Arriving back in the village, she still didn’t feel like stopping. “Okay,” she said to her body. “You want some more? Well, let’s go,” and she ran down Millers Lane to see how Rayn was doing. Disappointed to find no one in, she found a note pinned on the paddock gate. Just two words, ‘Old Mill’.
She made her way through the kissing gate and got to the mill to see Bridie and Rayn sitting on a blanket, dressed in shorts and bikini tops, surrounded by a picnic. Bridie wore sunglasses and looked a little pale.
“Well hello,” said Rayn. “You’re just in time. Fizzy orange, or juice?” She turned and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Wow, Amelia. You’ve got legs. Mum, look at those legs. My God, where did you get them from? And where did you get that outfit? Mum, I want that.”
It occurred to Amelia that she had only ever worn a skirt and green tights with school uniform, or her old tracksuit. And here she was in the shortest shorts imaginable. “Special offer,” she replied with a laugh. “Matching set, two for one.” She looked Bridie in the eye and added, “What do you reckon? The best that science could buy?”
Bridie stared back at her. “If you’re going to use phrases like that, please be good enough to say Natural Science. Now, sit down, shut up, drink your orange, and don’t spoil my day,” she said, throwing in a smile to let Amelia know she wasn’t really angry with her.
Suitably chastised, Amelia apologised and sat down on the blanket. “This is Sheila’s outfit, but it feels so good I’m going to adopt it. Much better than a stifling tracksuit. The only trouble is, as I ran through Grabsum Moor, I felt like the Pied Piper, And I would have needed an eighteen wheeler to bring back the eyeballs that were thrown at me. I’m glad she made me wear a bra.” The unease provided by Amelia’s remark to Bridie was lost in the ensuing laughter.
“You ran all that way this morning?” said Rayn.
“Yeah,” answered Amelia. “I came back over the back roads through Warem Down and up to the High Lakes. It’s really beautiful up there.”
“Amelia,” said Bridie. “Antonio and I used to drive up there. That’s a round trip of over thirty miles; with hills I wouldn’t even attempt to crawl up. What are you up to?”
“After my talk with Mum last night, which was quite mind-blowing, I needed to think, and my body just kept going. So I thought I would see what it could do,” explained Amelia.
“And how do you feel?” asked an eager Rayn.
“Actually, to be honest, I don’t feel as if I could do it again today.” she told her.
Rayn rolled on to her back and drummed the turf with her heels, throwing punches at the air.
“I knew it! I knew it! Oh Amelia, I’m so pleased for you. Well done.”
“Don’t worry Rayn. It’ll be your turn soon,” said Amelia. Rayn froze and Bridie put her head in her hands.
“Lucy wasn’t supposed to tell you all that. And if she did, you’re not to tell anybody. Especially Rayn,” Bridie was desperate.
“She didn’t actually tell me,” answered Amelia, deciding to bend the truth a little to protect her mother. “I deduced it from the conversation. And I told her I would tell Rayn. We don’t have any secrets. We can’t afford them. We depend on each other too much for that. She said it would be okay.”
“Tell me what? Tell me what? Come on. Tell me.” Rayn was so excited she was on the edge of hysteria.
“All right,” said Bridie. “I’ll do it. But you must promise me, and I mean really promise, that you will never discuss this. Even between yourselves. There is a very good reason for it, which I will explain.”
“Yes mother, anything!” shouted Rayn.
Bridie told her about ‘Maddy’s Cocktail’ and its effects. “Amelia was born half Sand-dancer, while you were…how can I put this…designed to be the same, or as near as they could get. You see, I haven’t told Rayn this bit yet, but when she was prematurely born I was badly wounded, carrying three bullets, one to the abdomen. But that’s another story, and believe me you couldn’t afford the tickets to hear that one. Anyway, Lucy didn’t know if she could save both of us and explained about the genetic manipulation thing. During the pregnancy she gave us a blood transfusion from herself. We were lucky to survive and Rayn was born. But, with my consent she took the opportunity to use some genetic material from you Amelia and do a sort of clone thing. Anyway, it all worked out and we reckon that makes you half-sisters.”
That last sentence drove Rayn into frenzy. She needed a face twice the size to accommodate the ear-to-ear smile. She dived on Amelia and they rolled on the grass, laughing with pure delight.
“Oh Amelia! half-sisters. I…I think I’m going to cry…” stuttered Rayn.
“Well, mum said I’ve also got some of your genes so I’m going to demand full sistership or I resign. How’s that?” said Amelia.
Rayn couldn’t take any more happiness. Her safety valve blew and she blubbered like a child. When she’d calmed down, she sat with her head in her hands, trying to take it all in.
“What did you mean?” she said at last. “You have some of my genes? Why would you need them?”
“It seems they put in some safeguards to protect us from ourselves,” Amelia told her. “They made up a batch of medication to make us immune to addictive substances. Including alcohol. We can enjoy a drink but we can’t get drunk. Isn’t that right, Bridie?” she said, looking at Bridie accusingly.
Bridie smiled and closed her eyes in resignation. “They did say my predilection for the odd dram might cause some problems. Fortunately, they were able to solve that one without my help, although they have no idea why Rayn can smoke. They came up with ‘Maddy’s Cocktail’, and it makes Sheila your cousin, I suppose.”
When things settled down they started on the food and for once Amelia’s appetite matched Rayn’s. Bridie gave up in disgust.
“Now,” Bridie said. “This is very important and very serious. The reason you must not investigate or discuss anything to do with this is because you’ve both reached the age when certain abilities may, or may not, appear. Lucy doesn’t have a full picture of what might happen. Remember, Chimera is way beyond the limits of genetic science here. No one knows what abilities exactly, or to what extent. But they must develop naturally. A lot of the things you will think and feel on your way through adolescence, as you unknowingly did with puberty, will be normal. But you won’t know which is nature and which is nurture. Some things will be obvious, others will be obscure. You have to let everything sort itself out in its own way.”
Bridie stopped for a moment to light up a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, she then continued. “Your physical and mental progress has taken us by surprise. You are way ahead of your years on that score. But there are no tests or examinations to assess your emotional development under these circumstances. When we say you’re not yet ready, what we really mean is that nobody knows if you’re ready or not. That’s all I have to say, and don’t ask me any more questions,” she finished.
“So, what are you doing up here then?” asked Amelia after a long period of silence.